How Pauline the Horse Got the Children to School

Pauline had been a very good work horse and lived in the Ukraine in the 1920’s, a time and place when people still used horses in the fields, and to pull wagons into town.  She had been a strong, willing worker.  

Now Pauline was getting on a bit, too old to pull plows or much of anything, really.  The soldiers that came and took good horses passed her by.  But she was still able to throw good foals, so she stood around gestating and eating what hay could be spared for her.  She was patient and kind, like work horses are.

Spring in the Ukraine brought sloppy mud, renown for stopping armies.  Treacherous mud, well-nigh impassable. Some families had to keep their children home from school, as the children would sink up to their ankles in it, and loaded farm wagons would sink to their axles.

Pauline would not be stopped by mud.  Her mighty legs had been through many muddy fields and if a horse could scoff, you might have seen her lifting her eyebrows at the cart horses that could not make it through the streets. 

The children in the Warkintin family were able to go to school, because Pauline could get them there.  The eldest brother, Henry, who didn’t go to school anymore, went into the barn, put a halter on Pauline and led her out to the farmhouse.  The four children who attended school climbed up on a step stool and then on to the wide back of Pauline.  Arms around each other, they squeezed together in the coats and scarves, holding their lunch pails.

“Take the children to school Pauline,” said Henry.

Pauline plodded out of the farmyard and up the muddy street.  She sank to her pasterns in the mud, a familiar event from years in muddy fields.  She pulled her hooves from the muck one after the other, slowly working her way down to school.  Pauline knew where to go.  She aimed right for the porch of the school where the kids could slide off without getting their feet in the mud.  At that point, the lunch pails opened and carrots were produced for sweet Pauline.

“Go home now,” they told her, patting her soft nose.  She’d blow warm breath on them.

Off Pauline went.  When she got home, another carrot was waiting from Henry.

In the afternoon this was repeated.  Pauline was sent off on her own to the schoolhouse to collect the children. Without fail, she worked her way down to the school. When she pulled up to the porch, the children climbed aboard and Pauline brought them home.

Pauline died sometime in the 1920’s.  But 90 years later, this loyal, kind horse was spoken of by my mother-in-law Susanne who was one of the little kids who rode her to school. 

Kindness, loyalty, and good humor are always rewarded, and this noble horse had all three. 

And carrots too.